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writetomyheart2015-10-17 11:41 pm
bluedreaming) wrote in writetomyheart2015-10-17 11:41 pm
Entry tags:
[team sonic] come alive
First words from questioning myself.
Title from We Found Love feat. Calvin Harris by Rihanna.
"Breast," Seungyoun says, the giggles bubbling in his chest as he flips the page of his sister's old health textbook. He and Yibo and curled up next to each other on the bed, the contraband book resting on their knees; they'd been bored, skimming through all the bones and laughing at the hard to pronounce names before they'd gotten to the human reproduction system.
"Yuck," Yibo says, making a face, and Seungyoun echoes his expression and yet there's something. . .he flips the page, more interested in Yibo's face than the page, so when Yibo's cheeks flush pink he's surprised, before looking down at the page.
It's a full sketch, in colour, of the male reproductive system, and there's something both chilling about the plainness of the image, but also kind of. . .Seungyoun is aware, suddenly, of his own body, of the heavy feeling between his legs, the way the skin of his leg is brushing against Yibo's, warm and soft.
He can hear Yibo breathing.
"Do you—?" he starts to ask, but just then his mother's voice filters up from the bottom of the stairs,
"Yibo! Your mom is on the phone and wants you to go home for supper!"
There's a pause, an exhalation of breath, and then Yibo is suddenly leaving in a scramble of limbs and twisted blanket and his backpack trailing school handouts as he rushes down the steps; Seungyoun feels like he's left in the wake of a summer storm, blinking, as he looks down at the cover of the overturned anatomy book.
Carefully, he turns the book over and searches for the page, the paper falling open silently as he looks at the picture.
He can't get Yibo's faintly pink cheeks out of his mind, the way he ran away.
"I want—" Seungyoun whispers to the emptiness of his room, but he's not sure what. Just. . .something.
Title from We Found Love feat. Calvin Harris by Rihanna.
"Breast," Seungyoun says, the giggles bubbling in his chest as he flips the page of his sister's old health textbook. He and Yibo and curled up next to each other on the bed, the contraband book resting on their knees; they'd been bored, skimming through all the bones and laughing at the hard to pronounce names before they'd gotten to the human reproduction system.
"Yuck," Yibo says, making a face, and Seungyoun echoes his expression and yet there's something. . .he flips the page, more interested in Yibo's face than the page, so when Yibo's cheeks flush pink he's surprised, before looking down at the page.
It's a full sketch, in colour, of the male reproductive system, and there's something both chilling about the plainness of the image, but also kind of. . .Seungyoun is aware, suddenly, of his own body, of the heavy feeling between his legs, the way the skin of his leg is brushing against Yibo's, warm and soft.
He can hear Yibo breathing.
"Do you—?" he starts to ask, but just then his mother's voice filters up from the bottom of the stairs,
"Yibo! Your mom is on the phone and wants you to go home for supper!"
There's a pause, an exhalation of breath, and then Yibo is suddenly leaving in a scramble of limbs and twisted blanket and his backpack trailing school handouts as he rushes down the steps; Seungyoun feels like he's left in the wake of a summer storm, blinking, as he looks down at the cover of the overturned anatomy book.
Carefully, he turns the book over and searches for the page, the paper falling open silently as he looks at the picture.
He can't get Yibo's faintly pink cheeks out of his mind, the way he ran away.
"I want—" Seungyoun whispers to the emptiness of his room, but he's not sure what. Just. . .something.